Published on Jun 26, 1999
To paraphrase Bart Simpson, “Making teenagers depressed is like
shooting fish in a barrel.”
Unfortunately, that quote can extend into my mid 20s. That would
be one of the only reasons that I could be attracted to
Floodland, a breakthrough album for the band, Sisters of
Mercy. Introduced to it by my roommate, it quickly became a
soundtrack to playing “Goldeneye” on the N64 with a nice glass of
merlot.
But to do this review, I have to drop the “G” bomb on you
readers. For those unfamiliar with Sisters of Mercy, they’re one of
the cornerstones of the much misunderstood “goth” genre of rock
music.
Emotions are more bloated than Fat Bastard’s belly on
Floodland. One the first track, “Dominion/Mother Russia,”
Andrew Eldrich croons and moans such lines as “When I lick your
wings” and “Mother Russia rain down, down, down.” Jim Steinman, a
producer known for putting a pristine sheen on recordings, is a
perfect pick for a producer for the Sisters of Mercy.
If goth wasn’t invented before
Floodland, it would have been invented shortly after. The
album cover, black as an oil slicked river, shows Eldrich’s face,
ghost white, and donning sunglasses, of course. Most of the songs
on
Floodland run above six minutes. Perfect for such
over-the-top emotional bloodletting.
The music, so good on
Floodland, makes you forget the goofy style of goth
immediately. The chilling church organ beat of “Flood I” seems to
flow effortlessly out of “Dominion/Mother Russia.” Two songs, and
you’re already almost fifteen minutes into this monster of an
album.
When the Sisters of Mercy focus on rhythm, they’re gripping as
hell to listen to. The hot-rod race theme of “Lucretia My
Reflection” is propelled by a simple bass line and a metallic drum
beat. And with lyrics like, “Hot Metal and methrdrine” and “I hear
the sons of the city and dispossessed/get down get undressed,” you
swear you feel like you’re in the parking lot of your old high
school on a Saturday night.
Sadly, when SOM try to achieve crediability by writing a pensive
ballad, the become laughable, almost. The hoaky, “1959” does not
help the cause. Eldrich seems to break down during the chorus, but
the lyrics are as vague as a script on MTV’s “Road Rules” show.
Things perk up with the anthem heavy, “This Corrosion.” Though a
ten-minute song may seem a bit excessive, especially with a chorus
that is repeated continuously throughout most of the song, the
music is so compelling you have no idea that ten minutes has just
passed.
As good as “This Corrosion” is, the rest of the album doesn’t
quite live up to the heights achieved by the first couple tracks on
the album. They’re still gripping, however. It just takes a little
more work to digest tracks like “Flood II” and “Driven Like The
Snow.”
Floodland is basically an album for those days in which
you’re riding out a deep depression (sorry Shirley Manson) and you
don’t want anyone to screw with your funk. It’s brooding to the
highest degree. The only albums that could possibly out-brood
Sisters of Mercy may be those from Portishead or Joy Division.
It seems unfathomable that the media could even attempt to
associate music like the Sisters of Mercy to entice kids to behave
in a sadomachastic way. The reaction I usually get from listening
to
Floodland is usually to wear black and write a poem about
how my deliquent MCI long distance bill is causing me to have an
ulcer. Though their general vibe may be harmless, their music
definitely is not.